


It's Better if You Do

by Superdillin



Series: Seren Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 7 Days of Dorianmance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superdillin/pseuds/Superdillin
Summary: Uncommon grounds is a real coffee shop in Saratoga Springs NY. Go to it.





	1. Chapter 1

How did Seren let the two of them talk him into this in the first place, anyway?  A strip club wouldn’t fix his problems or help him get over Fin.  Still, they managed to persuade him and it would seem they were having more fun than you’d expect, considering the furious levels of ‘gay’ between the two of them.  Still, here they were, Sera and Dagna taking ‘body shots’ and shoving their last remaining dollars down this nice fella’s hotpants.  

 

And Seren tried to make himself as small and invisible as possible.  Sure, these guys were nice to look at, but he was _lonely_ and _heartbroken_ , not horny, looking to scratch an itch.  Staring at some straight boys gyrate in their underwear for a crowd of drunk women wasn’t going to fill the kind of need he had.  

 

The dancers could mostly tell, it seemed, that Seren was uninterested.  No one came to his table beside the bartender, refilling his pint glass.  The stage did intrigue him, however.  There was a brass pole in the center that most of the men dancing seemed to use as a prop to grind against.  He’d wondered all night if any of them ever used it the way he’d seem women dancers do, or gymnasts.  

 

_I’m sure this is exactly what Sera and Dagna wanted me to be thinking about tonight_ , he mused to himself.  

 

Sera brought over a pair of shots and placed one in his hand.  “You could at least _try_  to have fun, y’know,” she said after they emptied their glasses.  “I don’t know what you see in men, but some of them are pretty, right?”

 

“I am having fun,” Sarcasm dripped from his lips.  “In fact, I feel better already.  Fin who?  Can we go now?”

 

“Fine,” She groaned.  “One more drink, though.  Then we’ll leave.”

 

Seren conceded with a roll of his eyes as she hopped back over to the dwarf at the bar.  His eyes froze there, when they caught the stage.  A young man had walked out who was beyond striking.  Not much older than Seren by estimation, he had bronze skin that seemed to glow softly under the warm lighting, silver-grey eyes Seren swore sparkled, and tone muscles simply everywhere.  He wore red satin boxers that… _clung_  in places, and two more red scarves tied around him just above his hip bones.  

 

No one was nearby to tell Seren that his mouth was agape like a fool, and when the man began to dance, the poor boy forgot to breathe.  The dancer gripped the pole with only one hand and still his feet hovered just above the stage as he spun, the light dancing across his skin as he moved.  

 

He was strong without question, but there was more than that.  His movements were fluid and graceful, his body moving at a glacial pace from pose to pose both on the pole and off.

 

Seren tried to pull his eyes away when his friends returned, but it was too late, Dagna caught him staring.  

 

“Finally,” she yelped.  “Someone shiny caught his eye!”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Sera lifted her shot glass and, slightly hot with embarrassment, Seren touched glasses and drank his shot down.  With her lime chaser still in her mouth, Sera spoke over the music, “Change of plans, Lavellan.  We’re not going anywhere until we get you one dance with Sparkle Boy over there.”

 

Seren rolled his eyes with obligation but made no attempt to argue.  

 

Once the dancer left the stage, he began walking the floor, smiling and making eyes at the gawking women and happily taking their contributions.  Seren took a deep breath, thinking he would just give a spectacular tip, tell him he’s a phenomenal dancer, and drag his stupid friends right out of here.  

 

Sera just couldn’t let it be.  

 

“Sparkle boy!” She yelled, waving too enthusiastically.  “Come over here!”  It looked like he was smiling, maybe laughing, as he obliged and came to their table, taking a seat next to Sera.  Seren tried not to stare.  Seren failed.  

 

“Charmed to meet you gorgeous ladies,” his voice was deep velvet with an accent immediately identifiable as Tevene.  The noise in the club was enough to hide the hitch in Seren’s breath.  “If you enjoyed the show, could I interest you in something a little more...private?”

 

Dagna giggled loud and nervous, “Oh, oh my, Maker, no.  No thank you.  I mean, you’re cute and all, it’s just that --”

 

“We like pussy,” her girlfriend cut her off.  “Specifically each other’s.  But our friend here…”

 

Seren’s heart palpitated as the dancer turned his gaze on him.  

 

“It’s his first time and he just got his heart broken by some twit,” she continued.  “He needs some dick in the face, or whatever it is men do, to get him to snap out of it.”

 

The man laughed, which relieved Seren a little bit.  He adored her, but some people were put off by his best friend’s audacious nature.

 

“Well now,” he pried.  “What a treat.”

 

“Really,” Seren objected. “It’s okay, I’m...I’m not sure this is something I...Look, you’re an amazing dancer and --” Seren dug into his pocket to tip as he intended, but it was gone.  A moment of panic set in until Sera held it up between her fingers.  

 

“Uh-uh, rich boy,” She teased.  “This is happening.  How much?”

 

The dancer leaned in, putting a soft hand on Seren’s and holding his gaze.  “The poor man is so nervous,” he said.  “I think he’ll need time, and champagne.  That’s two hundred.”  His fingers danced on the skin of Seren’s palm.  “Worth every penny, you’ll see.”

 

Seren tried to protest, but the act was pointless.  To be alone with this man, drinking champagne?  Even if it were just a job to him...it sounded too decadent to pass up.  And, before he could pretend to object, he was being led by the hand away from the crowd.  

 

In the back, the music was muffled by the walls, quiet enough that Seren worried he could hear his nervous breathing.  The room was comfortable.  Seren took a seat on the soft couch and more warm, red lights accentuated the flow of the dancer’s skin.  A bucket of ice sat upon a small round table, full of champagne and two glasses.  

 

“What do I…” Seren caught himself stuttering and cleared his throat to start over.  “I never caught your stage name.”

 

The dancer poured their glasses before joining him on the couch.  He sat so close that Seren felt his warmth in the air around him.  He handed over one of the full glasses and answered Seren’s query.  

 

“Maleficar,” he smirked.  “That’s what you can call me.”

 

Seren took a generous sip from his glass, trying to shake his nerves. “Is that Tevene?”

 

Maleficar’s eyebrows rose a bit, “Good catch, an underappreciated language.  I’m sure you’d agree.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t really know any,” he answered honestly.  “Growing up Elven we were discouraged from learning anything that, well, _wasn’t_  Elven.”

 

Seren was rewarded with an honest laugh.  “Quite right.  Well, I hope you feel differently about such things.  There’s quite a lot of this world to know.”

 

Seren wanted to ask a million questions, he wanted to find out who this person _was_.   The way he spoke, he sounded worldly and smart, and Seren wondered if he was at University.  What might he be studying?  Has he travelled, seen the world?  What brought him _here,_  to _Ferelden_  of all places?  Did he miss Tevinter?

 

But he knew that wasn’t fair to ask.   _The poor guy’s just trying to work, don’t invade his personal life.  Just drink your damn champagne._

 

He did settle for one question, however.  “Can I ask what it means?  Maleficar?”

 

The dancer leaned in even closer, his mouth so very near the most sensitive part of Seren’s ear.  Just his breath against it made him forget all his manners, and when he spoke it made him weak.  

 

“It means ‘depraved’,” He sunk his voice deeper on the word, driving Seren to madness.  He was fully aware of how painfully hard he was, and the man hadn’t so much as touched him.  

 

“If you’re curious about Tevinter culture,” he continued against his ear, sending shivers through him.  “I’ve a dance that will really enlighten you.”

 

One thing was sure, he wasn’t thinking about Fin anymore.  

 

Maleficar stood up and untied one of the red silk scarves from around his waist.  Finding the rhythm of the music coming softly through the walls, he began to move.  Just like his stage set, his movements were slow and deliberate, pausing briefly in the poses that showcased him well.  

 

Moving to the space just between Seren’s feet on the floor, he threw the scarf as a loop behind the back of the elf’s neck, holding both ends and pulling toward him just enough to create a tension between them.  

 

For long minutes, Lavellan’s eyes travelled back and forth between those piercing grey eyes and the dip in the muscles just above his boxers.  His hips were swaying in time, mesmerizing, as his hands pulled just a bit more on the scarf.  With eyes trained downward on Seren, he slowly came forward to sit straddled across his lap.  

 

From here, Seren could smell him, like cinnamon and sugar, his bare chest only an inch from his own.  And when Meleficar lowered his hips to his, Seren realized just how little fabric was between them.  For a moment, the dancer sat still in his lap, wrapping the scarf from behind his neck, under his arms, and up so that when Maleficar caressed Seren’s face with his hands, Seren felt the sensation of silk across his skin.  

 

The faintest “Wow” escaped Seren’s lips, all the shame of enjoying this completely evaporated.  The man heard, and smiled, moving his hips again, this time against the hardness beneath Seren’s pants.  It was simply that for a while, with no words spoken, only deep breaths.  The elf trained his hands to the couch, trying desperately not to work himself up too much, to not forget that this man is just doing his job.  

 

_Doing his job well,_ he thought.   _So, so well._

 

At some point Maleficar took his hands from Seren’s neck and reached down to grab his.  Slowly, he moved them up until they were resting on the bare skin of his hips.  Seren cast his eyes up to look at the handsome face only inches away from his own.  

 

“I thought this wasn’t allowed?” He whispered.  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 

The man leaned in, this time his cheek grazing Seren’s as he spoke in his ear.  “It’s dancer’s discretion.  And believe me.  After another long shift of pretending to be attracted to women, this is a welcome indulgence for me.”

 

_Don’t panic, Lavellan_ , he thought.   _Sure, the gorgeous man currently grinding my lap just told me he was gay and enjoying this, but he’s also the man I_ paid _to be grinding my lap.  The whole thing could be nonsense._

 

He tried to continue reasoning with himself but the dancer’s hips were rocking against him harder now, and his chest was fully pressed against him.  Both of them had heaving breaths and soon Lavellan couldn’t keep focused at all.  His hands traveled the skin of his sides and back, and Maleficar’s hands had dropped the scarf, touching his face and neck with only bare skin.  

 

_Very, very good at his job._ The diminished voice of reason in his head tried to argue.   _Solid work ethic._

 

The Tevene man’s face was now an inch from his, each warm breath landing on Seren’s lips, and they both were in rhythm against each other now.  Their speed and intensity kept increasing, and eventually, a soft and genuine moan slipped from Maleficar’s lips onto Seren’s, and Seren leaned forward and caught them, their lips pressed tight against each other for a long moment before sobriety washed over them.  

 

Maleficar pulled back, never stopping his dance, but slowing.  “Unfortunately _that_ really isn’t allowed.”

 

“Oh, Creators,” Seren said, trying to wriggle himself free from under him.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m so, so foolish and you are so terribly good at what you’re doing.  I’m sorry, please, excuse me.  I’ll get my wallet from my friend, you were magnificent before I went and ruined it.  I'm sorry, I'll come right back.”

 

He rushed out of the room to find Sera in the crowd. She was easy to spot, an elf and her Dwarven girlfriend making out against the wall. All Seren needed to do was walk up and whisk his own wallet out of her pocket, heading back to the private rooms. 

 

When he got back, the dancer was standing, a robe wrapped around him. Seren hated himself for the thoughts that were still bubbling in his brain when he looked at him. 

 

The look on Maleficar’s face was difficult to read. Sad, or angry, maybe a mix of both, one couldn't tell. Seren grabbed whatever cash was left in his wallet after the girls decimated it, and reached out to hand it over. 

 

He was fully prepared to head right back out the way he came, but concern and curiosity got the better of him. 

 

“Are you alright,” he asked, clarifying “you don't have to answer, I just really hope I didn't ruin your night.”

 

The man stepped forward, “Ruin my night?” he sounded genuinely full of surprise. “I made my goals for the evening and I got to do it drinking champagne with a handsome elf.” 

 

Seren was quiet, his confusion plainly read on his face. In response, the man stepped even closer. 

 

“I know,” he sounded exasperated. “You can't figure out what I'm saying is true and what is work. It's alright.” He slipped one arm around Seren’s very tense waist, and the other placed a small scrap of paper into his hand.  “Maybe you'd have an easier time trusting me somewhere else.”

 

With a quick pace, Maleficar slipped out of the room. By the time Seren followed, he wasn't in sight. Grabbing his friends, he insisted that now was _definitely_ the time to go, and he waited until they were both passed out in the cab ride home to uncurl his fingers from around the paper. 

 

  _Dorian_

_ 555-9060  _


	2. Chapter 2

Seren awoke the next morning with his hand still wrapped around himself, having fallen asleep to the memory on replay of the man he wished were still in his lap.  Cold and sober, he looked over to his nightstand to the scrap of paper neatly folded.   _Dorian_.  He said the name a few times over in his head.  

 

It simply seemed too good to be true, why would he want to see him?  Curiosity was already peaking, however, and Seren grabbed his cellphone from the nightstand and contemplated dialing the numbers.  

 

He paused and forgot his intention, distracted by the message alert on his screen,                     

8:37 AM Finrael: Can’t you just talk to me?

 

An exasperated sigh escaped him and he chucked his phone to the pillow and got up to get himself some much-needed water.  As he entered his living room he saw Sera and Dagna, just starting to wake, in a heap on his couch.  

 

“Morning ladies,” he groaned, still feeling embarrassed, hungover, and irritated by Fin’s persistence.  “I’m working on coffee.” He did as promised, impatient to get the needed fuel in his body.  

 

“Morning, dork,” Sera said from under a blanket.  “You ready to spill the beans yet?”

 

“Coffee…” Dagna groaned, putting a hand over her girlfriend’s mouth.  “Coffee first.”

 

Eventually, the three of them sat, properly dishevelled from their night out with fresh mugs in their hands held like precious jewels.  Dagna’s braid was partially undone and hanging strands obstructed her face.  Sera’s eyes were encircled with the charcoal eyeliner that looked so fierce the night before.  And Seren, well, he still had some of the glitter that had adorned Dorian’s skin on his face and neck, and he smelled overwhelmingly of cinnamon and sugar.  

 

“So…” Dagna resumed after a long pull of her caffeine.  “How was it?”

 

Seren couldn’t help it, moments of that dance with him were moving through his mind all morning, and when she asked him, he distinctly remembered the feel of those hands on his face as they were rocking against each other.  The hairs on the back of his head tingled just a little.  

 

“It was...amazing.”  An honest answer, however incomplete.  

 

“See?” Sera tipped her head in a mocking bow.  “Don’t I always know what to do?”

 

“Too good,” Seren continued while the girls cocked their eyebrows.  “I kissed him.”

 

Sera grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at him, while Dagna just laughed.  “You bloody tit, you _kissed_  the stripper?,” His best friend scolded.  “Is that why we had to leave in such a hurry?”

 

“More or less, yes,” He admitted.  “It was so good and I made a massive fool of myself, I know.” He pinched the flesh between his eyebrows to try to massage the embarrassment away.  

 

“So what’d he _do,_ ” Dagna said once she regained her composure.  “How’d he react?”

 

“Actually,” Seren’s voice was still full of disbelief at the words about to spill from his lips.  “He gave me his phone number.  With his real name.  Well, I think, anyway.”

 

“Bullshit,” Sera called out.  “Tell me you’re serious?”

 

Seren stood and walked to his bedroom, returning a moment later with the scrap of paper, handing it over to Sera to see for herself.  Both her and Dagna’s eyes lit up as they inspected it. 

 

“He said he wanted to see me outside the club sometime,” He explained.  “I mean, I don’t know, if he’d asked me for a down-payment on a house in that moment I would have said yes.  Is this maybe just part of his hustle?”

 

Sera snickered at him and passed the paper back.  “No, sweetie,” she purposefully condescended.  “Strippers _don’t_  give out their personal information and ask for dates with their customers.”

 

“Well,” Dagna probed.  “Are you gonna go for it?  He was a pretty thing.”

 

Seren didn’t have to think long.  All those questions he’d wanted to ask, he could ask them.  He couldn’t process the thought that another kiss might be a possibility, but he definitely knew he wanted to know more about this man.  In that, his mind was made up.  

 

“I am,” he declared.  “I’m just not sure...how?  Should I call him?”

 

Dagna shook her head, “I’d start with a text.  Besides, that place closed at four in the morning, if your phone call wakes him up he might kill you.”

 

“I know I sort of want to kill you,” Sera agreed, putting her empty mug down and retreating back under the blanket.  “Widdle’s right, just text him.”

 

“I’ll have to tell him about my past,” Seren hesitated.  The Inquisition was still fresh and though he was free of it now, his name was still known.  “I shouldn’t put that on him.”

 

Sera let out a frustrated groan, nearly a scream.  “Stop being so wingey, just do it.”

 

So Seren left the girls to part two of sleeping it off, and went back to his bedroom to make his move.  When he picked up his phone he realized he’d forgotten about the message from Fin.  Without hesitation he flicked back a response.  

 

9:22 AM No thanks.  I “chose the Inquisition over you”, you chose another man over me.  Let’s just leave it be.

 

Sending that gave him the adrenaline kick he needed to send the next message.  

 

9:26 AM Good morning Dorian, it’s Seren.  The befuddled mess of an Elf you took pity on last night.  I hope you slept well.

 

With a pounding in his chest he hit send, and laid himself back into bed.  The buzz of his phone happened too quickly, he thought, hoping that Fin had the good sense not to respond.  

 

9:28 AM Dorian: Seren, is it?  I was worried you wouldn’t reach out.  I’m glad you did.

9:30 AM Dorian: You were a charmingly befuddled mess.  And apparently that’s my weakness.

 

Seren can’t remember ever feeling quite this way, curled up under his blanket now as his heart flipped about his chest cavity.  His phone had never been such an absolute _wonder_  to him as it was in this moment.  

 

9:32 AM I feel quite lucky that you thought I was at all charming.  You were amazing, and I still feel like a fool for getting carried away.  Could I make it up to you?

9:35 AM I’d love to take you to lunch today, if you were at all interested.

 

9:45 AM Dorian: Unfortunately I’ve several pages due for review tomorrow morning that I’ve done a wonderful job procrastinating.  I’ll likely be in the University Library all day until work.

 

_I knew he was brilliant_ , Seren thought, trying to imagine what he might study.  He was about to ask as much when a second message came through.  

 

9:50 AM Dorian: Although, I’ll likely need a break for coffee somewhere around noon.  There’s a good place near campus, Uncommon Grounds.  Ever been there?

 

Seren let out a giddy chuckle that would have mortified him had anyone heard.  He took his phone with him to his kitchen to snap a picture of his caffeine cabinet.  Inside, aside from an assortment of teas, were several bags of their blends.  He took his coffee _seriously_ , and though not well-known, these folks were the best.  He sent the picture to Dorian.  

 

10:00 AM Nope.  Never heard of them.

10:01 AM “Noon it is then, I’ll meet you there?”

 

10:05 AM Dorian: Cheeky.

10:05 AM Dorian: Yes please.  I’ll be looking forward to it while I try to focus on my work.

 

Seren put another pot of coffee on in case the girls woke back up, and took himself straight to the shower to start making himself look presentable.  He felt anxious to his core, but it was a new kind of anxiety for him.  It was entirely unlike the anxiety he was used to feeling as of late: anxiety when Fin began coming home later and later, fear when he’d stopped making love to him, paranoia when he saw him smiling at his phone late at night from across their own living room, jittery anticipation of the next fight.

 

This anxiety was adrenaline and excitement, a sort of scramble to plan his words out in his head and a rush at knowing he’d be seeing him again so soon.  

 

\-------

 

He could smell the coffee from down the street, before even reaching the door to Uncommon Grounds.  The place had barrels of fresh beans lining the walls, with clusters of couches and leather chairs spread throughout the center of the floor.  Along the left were the baristas, several of them the geniuses behind these wonderful flavors.  

 

As Seren walked toward the line, his eyes scanned the room, almost missing the strapping young Vint already comfortable in one of the leather loveseats.  He looked so different from the night before, dressed in a burgundy sweater and fitted jeans.  Thin-rimmed glasses adorned his face and, while he certainly wasn’t wearing any literal glitter, his skin still seemed to glow.  Heart racing, he walked over.  

 

Dorian glanced up from his phone when Seren approached, smiling so slightly.  He stood up when he was close and the elf was so busy focusing on appearing calm, he didn’t notice that the other man was fidgeting nervously with the hem of his pant pockets.  

 

“I’m glad you came.” Dorian’s voice was as smooth as Seren remembered, all velvet and charm.  He reached down and picked up two ceramic mugs from the table and handed one over to Seren.  “I took a gamble, I saw that their almond was in the picture you sent.  And I can only assume you take it plain.”

 

Seren’s lips upturned as he inhaled from the cup.  “How on earth did you guess that?”

 

“As I said, it was just an inkling,” He sipped from his drink.  “Me, I absolutely _ruin_ my coffee with sweet cream.”  He took his seat once again, patting the spot next to him with his hand.  When he sat close, he begged his own eyes not to stare.  

 

“So, I had an inkling about you as well,” Seren mused.  “I could just tell that you were a scholar of some kind.  Can I ask what you’re studying?”  His eyes were glued to the man as he spoke, he was captivated. 

 

“I’m nearing the end of a long journey actually.  I was an History major during my undergraduate, and I chose to focus on the connection of Elven and Tevinter history in particular.  Now I’ve apparently gone too far down that rabbit hole, because it’s currently the focus of my dissertation.”

 

“Wow,” Seren’s eyebrows cocked, fascinated, albeit panicked.  The man studies Elven history, he may already know who Seren really is.  “I’m sad to say I’ve only recently in life discovered the connection between the two.”

 

“That’s not by accident, I’m afraid,” he explained.  “That connection has been systematically wiped from Tevinter’s records.  To even think of studying such _heresy_ I had to travel South.”

 

“I did wonder what brought you here,” the Lavellan admitted.  “Ferelden definitely isn’t as sophisticated as Tevinter from what I’ve heard.”

 

“Well, it’s true that we’re unmatched in our taste for flare, but our corruption is dressed to match.” Dorian took a long pause, pulling a long sip from his coffee.  “Besides, I couldn’t _be myself_ there.” 

 

It took Seren a few moments to process the implication Dorian was making before he realized.  “So it’s true then?  Being...like us truly isn’t welcome there?”

 

“Not in the slightest, especially if you come from an ‘upstanding family’ as I did.  Pity I had to have so much self respect, you know.  Graduate school would have been one-hundred percent more free.”

 

“You’ve done all this yourself, then?” Seren had leaned in, caught in Dorian’s story and finding himself needing to know every detail.  “You broke away from a well-off family in Tevinter and paid your way through two degrees without any support?”

 

“Marvelous, aren’t I?” He joked, but Seren was absolutely certain of this.  “What about you?”

 

Seren had been so focussed on Dorian’s story that he’d forgotten he’d have to tell him about _his_  life as well.  And comparatively, he felt like a disaster.  “Not quite as marvelous.  I’m just your average elf, really. It’s just…”  Seren tried to word this right in his head, but like most things, he just decided to blurt it out.  “I’m Seren Lavellan, of the Inquisition.  I’m sorry, I should have told you straight away.”

 

Dorian’s head fell back a little as he chuckled.  “I was wondering if you were going to tell me,” he mused.  

 

“You knew?”

 

“I study Elven and Tevene History, and have for the better part of six years!” Seren’s face looked horrified but Dorian didn’t seem to be bothered by who he was, yet.  “Of course I would recognize the _Herald of Andraste_ himself.”

 

Seren recoiled visibly at the sound of that preposterous title.  He was Elven, worshipped the Creators, why did they _insist_  on forcing their religious title onto him?

 

“I’m sorry,” Dorian noticed his recoil and softened his voice.  “I never realized how uncomfortable that must have made you all that time.”

 

“It’s alright,” Seren breathed freely once again.  “It’s been awhile since anyone called me that.  Still, it doesn’t mean anything anymore, and it’s barely a part of who I am.”

 

“I have to disagree,” Dorian leaned close again, brushing a loose hair away from the scar on Seren’s eye.  “You survived a terrorist attack, became the first known Elf to lead in a human army in history, the _youngest_  person to lead a human army, and you took out a threat to all of Thedas.  No one does that without being at least a little bit remarkable.”

 

Suddenly Seren’s mouth was painfully dry.  His lips felt stuck together even though he knew he had to respond to those words with something, _anything._   

 

“I’m glad you think so, then,” He managed.  “Though we should keep our voices low when we talk about it, lest I get mobbed.”

 

“Fair enough,” he agreed.  “I better be getting back to the library about now if I want to finish before work, however.”

 

Seren, vibrating with nerves, put a bold hand on Dorian’s.  “Can I ask…” He paused to settle the discomfort in his voice.  “Could I see you again?”

 

Dorian’s face almost looked surprised, but that couldn’t be right.  Why would such a brave and brilliant and _gorgeous_  person be surprised to be adored as Seren already clearly did?

 

“You would, then?” His velvet voice sounded quiet and breathy now.  “I think I’d like that too.”

 

\-----

 

1:27 PM Dorian:  Distract me a bit, will you?  I’ve forgotten how to write, it seems.

 

1:30 PM I know already that you’re too eloquent for that.

1:32 PM But I’m all for a good distraction.  Shall I bore you terribly with Inquisition stories?  Drunkenness in the barracks?  The Qunari Mercenary who fucked every support staffer on base?  Tell me you’ve read the book by Tethras, it’s 98% false but hysterical.

 

1:40 PM Dorian: You’re mad, that book was dreadful trash.  

1:40 PM Dorian: I’ve read it twice already.

1:45 PM Dorian: Do go on, though.  Are you saying ‘Iron Bull’ is a real person?  I sincerely thought that was propaganda.

 

1:54 PM Oh he’s real.  We’re still quite close.  And he prefers “The Iron Bull”, actually.  I’m not quite sure how the sex works, though.  Most of the men and women he took to bed needed a day off after.

 

1:56 PM Dorian: Sounds like he’s doing it right, then.

 

\------

 

4:37 PM Dorian: You’ve been on my mind, you know

 

4:48 PM I have been?  

 

4:53 PM Dorian: Well, yes.  Hard to forget someone as fetching as you.  Much preferable to work.

 

5:03 PM I hope it’s obvious, I haven’t gotten you out of my mind once since last night.  It was the last thing I expected.  

5:04 PM This was the last thing I expected.  

 

6:28 PM Dorian: Well, we’ll have to do something with that self-esteem of yours then.  

7:00 PM Dorian: If I could have kept kissing you last night, I would have.

 

7:22 PM I don’t know what to say, except that I hope I get another chance then.  

 

8:06 PM Dorian: Do you have to sleep early tonight for any reason?

 

8:07 PM None come to mind...why?

 

8:27 PM Dorian: Another chance.  I’m off work at 2.  Pick me up?

 

8:41 PM Without question.  

 

\------

 

The road at that time of morning was black and quiet, save for the occasional lone set of headlights.  Seren felt this was surreal, driving back there again.  The possibility of taking someone like Dorian, this _Maleficar_ home was never even a thought before.  Now he was so aware of his heart rate, his breathing, his inability to slow his thoughts.  He tried to down his own over-thinking out with music as he made his way back there again.  

 

In the parking lot he hesitated, wondering for a minute if he should go inside.  He opted to send a message instead.  

 

1:58 AM I’m outside, Maleficar.  Take all the time you need.

 

The adrenaline shot through his chest again as he hit send, knowing he’d see him any minute.  He tried to distract himself with nonsense on his phone screen, scrolling until the tap on his window made him jump.  

 

Dorian was there, looking as he did last night.  His skin was shimmering, his glasses gone, and the slightest bit of charcoal lining highlighted the curve of his eyes.   _Creators, he’s beautiful._

 

Seren unlocked the car door and Dorian joined him, still for a moment as Dorian’s ears adjusted to the quiet outside the club.  After long moments, Seren took in a sharp breath and let himself be bold.  

 

“My place isn’t very far,” He stammered.  “If you’d like a glass of wine, or some tea, I’ve got plenty of each.”

 

“Well, that depends,” the sweetness in his voice was impossible to miss.  “Is it red, or white?”

 

“Red.  A Vintage Warden Eval’lal I’ve been saving.”

 

“Well then, _Inquisitor,_ ” he said with his voice low and his eyes on the Elf next to him.  “Lead the way.”

 

The drive to his home felt _dreadfully_  long, with every traffic stop seemingly mocking Seren directly.  But Dorian didn’t seem to mind the wait.  He took the liberty of hijacking the stereo, plugging his phone in and playing this music that felt primal and raw.  As it played, his hand traveled gently to Seren’s leg.  

 

That was all.  But that was enough.

 

Seren felt an ache at the pit of him to kiss this man.  But even as they stepped out of the car to head inside, he felt his nerves holding him back.  All he could muster was to reach a tentative hand out as they approached the front door.  

 

And bless his heart, Dorian took it.  

 

As they passed the threshold, door shut behind them, Seren forced his nerves down.  He finally got the courage again to say words.  

 

“Dorian, I’m so glad ---”

 

The elf had no chance to finish, as Dorian stopped him short to grab him firmly by the shoulders and back him slowly to the wall of his darkened hallway.  He leaned in and Seren inhaled the cinnamon and sugar, intoxicated already.  Dorian paused, his face a mere inch away, his lips barely apart from the other man’s.  

 

“Say yes…” Dorian whispered, barely audible even so close.  Seren’s answer was an instant, closing the distance and capturing his lips in his own.  Dorian pressed harder against him, pinning him to the wall as their hands travelled each other desperately.  

 

“The...bedroom…” Seren mumbled, barely, against Dorian’s lips.  “It’s just...at the...end of the hall…” 

 

“Alright,” he agreed, never stopping, never breaking the kiss, only pressing harder into Seren, bringing his arms up over his head against the wall.  

 

They made it to the bedroom eventually, long after the sun had come up.  It was at this point that Dorian thought he ought to ask for cab fare and excuse himself for the day.  But be it the exhaustion, or the sex, or the disarmingly comfortable way the elf reached for him in the bed, he decided to stay.  Dorian curled his arms around the lithe elf and nuzzled his lips against his ear before they both drifted away.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncommon grounds is a real coffee shop in Saratoga Springs NY. Go to it.


End file.
